“I don’t know. You can ask.” Bertie peered into the rearview mirror as she switched lanes. “That’s why we’re going, isn’t it? To ask Sara a million questions?”
“I wonder if she’ll have a million answers.”
“Let’s hope.”
Blinker on, Bertie ran a yellow light and dove onto the parkway on-ramp. I braced myself against door and dashboard as the van swung around the turn.
“I found out something interesting yesterday,” I said. “Sara’s pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” Bertie glanced in my direction. At the speed we were traveling, I’d have felt better with her eyes on the road. “Who told you that?”
“Maris Kincaid. She thought it might have had something to do with Sara’s disappearance.”
“Pregnant?” Bertie repeated. She didn’t sound as though she liked that idea at all. “Who’s the father?”
“I haven’t a clue. Add it to the list of things we want to know. Should I start writing these down?”
“Pregnant?” Bertie snorted.
“Yes, pregnant,” I said for what I hoped was the last time. “With child, knocked up, in the family way.”
“I hope it isn’t Josh’s,” Bertie said fervently.
So that was what had her so unnerved.
“I don’t think so. Maris said Sara’s less than two months along. She and Josh stopped seeing each other last summer, right?”
“I guess so.”
I shot her a look. Josh had told me Sara dumped him in August for someone new. Bertie didn’t sound convinced.
“Is there something going on I should know about?”
“Damned if I know,” Bertie muttered.
All this conjecture wasn’t helping matters any.
“Shut up and drive,” I said.
Though it wasn’t late, the back roads of New Canaan were dark and nearly deserted. No street lamps lit our way through the posh residential area. Luckily, Bertie knew where she was going. All the stone walls and split rail fences looked alike to me; I’d have been lost in a minute.
This time when we swept up the long driveway, Bertie took the right fork, which led around the front of the house. Floodlights, situated strategically among the trees, lit our approach and bathed the mansion in a soft glow. I was entranced by the sight.
Bertie took a more pragmatic approach. “What are you staring at?” she asked as she parked the van in front of a wide set of flagstone steps.
“This place is gorgeous.”
“Try telling that to the Shelties in the kennel. I’m sure they’ll be really impressed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that.” She got out and slammed her door. “Considering Delilah’s reputation as a dog lover, you’d think we should see at least a couple of them running around, but we won’t.”
“Now that you mention it, I noticed that the last time I was here.”
Bertie started up the steps. “No dogs in the house. That’s the rule. Not that the kennel isn’t a dream facility, but still. When Sara was living here, she and her mother used to fight about that all the time.”
I pushed the doorbell and listened as chimes sounded within. “Sara knows we’re coming, right?”
“Actually,” Bertie admitted, “she knows I’m coming. You’ll be something in the nature of a pleasant surprise.”
Wonderful.
Grant Waring opened the door. A pair of reading glasses was perched low on his nose, and his feet were encased in a pair of scuffed leather slippers. Sara might have been expecting visitors, but clearly her stepfather wasn’t. He recovered quickly, though.
“Good evening,” he said, peering out onto the porch. “Bertie and . . . Melanie, right? Won’t you come in?”
The floor in the front hall was made of marble. A curved stairway, highlighted by a Palladian window, led to the second floor.
“It’s okay, Grant,” Sara called out. Her voice, sounding exasperated, floated down to us from the top of the steps. “They’re here for me.”
Hand flying on the polished mahogany railing, she raced down the wide staircase, each foot placed just so as she bent with the curve for maximum speed. It looked like a move she’d perfected in childhood, and I couldn’t help thinking that for someone who’d led us on an exasperating chase, Sara was looking remarkably carefree.
“Can I fix you something to drink?” asked Grant.
“No,” Sara snapped, answering for all of us. She clasped my hand and slipped an arm around Bertie’s shoulders. “We’re going upstairs.”
Directed by our hostess, we turned our backs on Grant and walked away. The steps took us up to a circular landing, which led in turn to a long hallway. A door at one end was open and a pool of light spilled out. Sara headed that way.
“What was that about?” Bertie asked.
“What?”
“Grant was only trying to be friendly. You didn’t have to bite his head off.”
“Yes, I did.”
So much for that line of questioning. I hoped the rest of the evening would prove more productive.
Following along behind, I found myself entering a bedroom that looked like a little girl’s fantasy run amok. Flower sprigged wallpaper in pink and cream matched a ruffled canopy over the double bed. The wall-to-wall carpeting was a sea of fluffy pink shag. Lace curtains framed two pairs of wide windows and formed the skirt for a vanity table. Even the lampshades were trimmed with it. A floor-to-ceiling bookcase held a collection of ornately dressed and intricately made-up dolls. There wasn’t a Raggedy Ann among them.
My eyes widened at the sight.
Sara noted my reaction and grimaced. “It hits most people like that. Delilah did it when I was little. The only time those dolls were ever touched was when the maid came in and dusted them. Is it any wonder I moved out as soon as I could?”
Sara didn’t seem to expect an answer. Anyway, before I could decide how to respond, we were interrupted by the sound of nails scratching on wood. Quickly Sara closed and locked the bedroom door. Then she crossed the room and opened another door. Titus burst out of the bathroom, whining softly and bouncing on his hind legs.
“Shh,” Sara warned, though the dog had barely made a sound. Taking him with her, she walked into the bathroom. “Come on. There’s a sitting room on the other side. We’ll be more comfortable there.”
Indeed. The other half of Sara’s suite was a big improvement over the bedroom. At least everything wasn’t pink or made of lace. A love seat and two matching armchairs were grouped around a coffee table piled high with magazines. A television and VCR sat against one wall, and a closet held a small refrigerator and a microwave.
Sara got out three sodas and put a bag of popcorn in the microwave. While she waited for it to heat, she sat down in a chair and drew her legs up beneath her. Apparently sure of his welcome, Titus jumped up into her lap.
Sara lowered her face to his ruff, inhaling the dog’s scent and caressing his soft hair with her cheek. It looked as though she’d missed the Sheltie as much as he’d missed her. She glanced up, saw me watching, and smiled.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight, Melanie.”
“I guess that makes us even. I wasn’t expecting to see you either. Where have you been?”
“It’s kind of complicated.”
“My whole last week has been complicated,” I said evenly. Imagine that. Sara thought she was the only one with problems. “Bertie’s been really worried about you.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just had to get away.”
The microwave pinged. Sara started to get up. Bertie waved her back into her seat.
“You’ve got Titus. I’ll get it.”
There was an empty bowl on a shelf above the refrigerator. Bertie opened the steaming bag and poured the popcorn out. She set the snack on the table between us.
“Why did you have to get away?” I asked. Sara might have been able to evade Bertie’s questions, but I had no intention of letting her side
step mine.
“I was afraid,” Sara said softly. She clutched the Sheltie to her as if she were holding onto a lifeline. “I had to go. I was afraid of what might happen if I stayed.”
22
The words hung in the silence of the cozy room. It was like telling ghost stories at a pajama party. The air around us seemed suddenly charged with menace.
Then Bertie snorted loudly and the spell was broken. “Afraid?” she said, scooping out a handful of popcorn. “Of whom?”
“Like I said, it’s complicated.”
“That’s okay,” I told her. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
“And besides, it’s none of your business.”
“Is that so?” Bertie demanded. “Then why did you leave me that note?”
“What note?”
“The one Terry delivered to me last week at the Hartford show. ‘I know I can count on you, blah, blah, blah.’ That note.”
“Oh, that.”
Bertie and I exchanged a glance.
“I didn’t want to just go away without leaving word with someone. And you were the first person I thought of, because of the wedding. Believe me, I know how jumpy brides can get about things. I’ve almost been one myself once or twice.”
Sara’s light, self-deprecating laugh invited us to join in. Neither Bertie nor I did.
“I thought you wanted me to figure out why you’d disappeared,” Bertie persisted. “I thought that’s what you were counting on me to do. That’s why I got Melanie involved. She and I have been looking for you.”
“So Delilah informed me.” Sara didn’t sound pleased.
As if I cared. I wasn’t particularly pleased with the way things had turned out myself.
“Where did you go?” I asked.
“What does it matter?”
“Humor me.”
“I was staying with a friend.”
“In Westchester?”
A fleeting look of surprise crossed Sara’s face. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you take Titus with you?” asked Bertie. “Your mother found him wandering around outside. That was one of the reasons we assumed something terrible had happened to you.”
“I . . . he . . .” Sara hesitated. Her fingers rubbed along the soft, pink skin of the Sheltie’s stomach. Turning in her arms, Titus wiggled in delight. Dogs are such suckers. They’ll forgive anything. “The person I was staying with doesn’t like dogs. In fact, she’s allergic. I left plenty of food and water, and he knows how to use the dog door. I thought he’d be fine.”
Sara sounded sincere, but I wasn’t buying it. Would I have gone off and left Faith behind, alone and unattended? Not a chance.
“Why were you looking for a lawyer?” I asked.
“A lawyer?” Sara was startled. “How did you know about that?”
“I told you,” said Bertie, “I asked Melanie to look for you. She’s good.”
“I guess,” Sara muttered. “You must have spoken with Debra Silver.”
“I did.”
“I’ll bet she had plenty to say about me.”
“Actually, she was very circumspect.”
“Did she drag you off to some god-awful nouveau chic restaurant and stick you with the bill?”
In spite of myself, I had to smile. “You’re half right.”
“Don’t tell me you managed to get her to pay?”
“No, we split it. But you were right about the restaurant. It was very chic.”
“The only kind of place Debra will be seen in,” Sara said. Obviously she was hoping I’d continue to let her change the subject.
No dice, I thought.
“Did the fact that you were looking for a lawyer have anything to do with your pregnancy?”
Sara paled slightly. My questions were beginning to hit home. She reached for her soda and took a long drink. When she set the can back down, her features were composed once more.
“My, you have been busy. I guess I should be flattered.”
“Or frightened.” I was sure I’d hit a sore spot there. I wondered what a little probing might turn up.
“What makes you say that?”
“Your reaction, for one thing. You are pregnant, aren’t you?”
Sara’s hand went reflexively to her stomach. “Yes.”
“Is that good news?” asked Bertie.
“In the beginning I thought so. Lately I’m not so sure.”
“How come?”
“Among other things, I’ve been having some problems with the baby’s father. He thinks I should get an abortion. That’s one of the reasons I dropped out of sight for a few days. I needed some time to think.”
“Who is the father?” I asked.
Even to my own ears, the question sounded blunt and nosy. I didn’t care. I still wanted to know.
I wasn’t entirely surprised, however, when Sara frowned at me and said firmly, “That’s private.”
“Someone we know?” Bertie prompted.
Sara wasn’t playing. “Someone I know,” she snapped.
As if that wasn’t obvious.
“What about Grant and Delilah?” Bertie asked. “Do they know about the baby?”
Sara didn’t answer right away. “Grant does,” she said finally. “I told him because I thought he might take the news better than Delilah. I was hoping he would help me break it to her, but when it comes to my mother, he turned out to be a bigger chicken than I am.”
“Let’s see if I have this straight,” I said, trying to line up what she’d told us so far. “You found out you were pregnant. You decided to go away for a few days to think things over. You left your dog behind in your house and sent a note to Bertie so she wouldn’t worry.”
A trace of sarcasm overlaid that last sentence, but Sara, who was nodding in agreement as I spoke, didn’t seem to notice.
“And then while you were gone,” Bertie contributed, “all hell broke loose.”
Sara’s lower lip began to tremble. Her head dipped into the Sheltie’s luxurious ruff. Once again, she was using Titus as a shield.
“Do you have any idea who might have set the fire that burned down your cottage?” I asked.
“None,” Sara whispered. Tears welled in her eyes. Her voice was unsteady. “Who could have hated me that much?”
“You said you were having problems with the baby’s father—”
She didn’t even let me finish the thought. “Not problems like that!”
“I’m sure the police will want to know—”
Sara shook her head and interrupted again. “I’ve already spoken to the police. Delilah had them here this afternoon. I answered all their questions.”
The police had no way of knowing about Sara’s pregnancy, I thought. Maybe they hadn’t known the right questions to ask. She was walking a slender tightrope if she thought she could hide information like that during a murder investigation.
“Did they ask where you were on Saturday night?”
“You mean, did they check my alibi? Yeah, they did. And I had one, too. I was at a club in Manhattan with a couple of people I know.”
“All night?”
“Late enough.”
Bertie stepped in and turned the conversation in a new direction. “Carole Eikenberry was a friend of yours, wasn’t she?” she asked.
Sara sniffled loudly. Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bertie frown. There was a box of tissues on a table near the door. She got up and brought it over.
“Carole was a good friend,” Sara said softly. “Someone who was always there for me.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention her before.”
“So?” Sara pulled out a tissue and blew her nose. “I don’t tell everybody everything. I probably never talked about you to her either.”
Bertie didn’t look appeased. I wondered what she was thinking. When she didn’t press the issue, however, I asked a question of my own. “Sara, do you know what Carole was doing at your
cottage on Saturday night?”
“I have no idea.” Sara’s nose was turning red. Mascara smeared beneath her eyes.
“You weren’t expecting her?”
“How could I have been expecting her when I wasn’t even there?”
“Had you spoken with her recently?”
“Look,” Sara said, drawing a ragged breath. “I’ve already been all through this with the police. I don’t know what happened.”
Blinking back fresh tears, she gazed at us mournfully. “I’m really sorry about all the trouble I caused both of you. If I’d had any idea how things would turn out, I would never have left in the first place. I was only trying to do what I thought was best for me and my baby.”
Sara reached up and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. The childlike gesture made her look unexpectedly vulnerable. She set Titus aside and stood. “I hope you guys don’t mind, but I’m really worn out.”
Taking our cue, Bertie and I got up, too.
“Are you going to be staying here?” I asked Sara.
“For the time being, until everything gets sorted out, yes.”
“So if someone needed to get in touch with you, this is where you’d be.”
Sara looked annoyed. “I’m not going to disappear again, if that’s what you’re asking.”
It had been, but I didn’t see the need to belabor the point. Sara walked us down to the front door. We didn’t see any sign of her parents on the way out. I guessed that was the beauty of living in a mansion the size of a small hotel.
After the warmth of the house, the November air felt shockingly cold. I gathered my coat around me, shivering as I opened the van door, and slid onto a chilly leather seat. Bertie glanced at me as she fastened her seat belt and put the key in the ignition.
“It’ll only take a minute to warm up. Then you’ll think you’re in a sauna. Best thing about this truck is the heater.”
Neither of us spoke until we reached the end of the long driveway. It had only taken a minute, but the interior of the van was already toasty. I stretched out my legs and settled back in my seat.
“So what did you make of all that?” Bertie asked as she pulled out onto West Road.
Once Bitten (A Melanie Travis Mystery) Page 17
